


A World that Never Was

by RalphtheFanboy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Romance, F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25758694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RalphtheFanboy/pseuds/RalphtheFanboy
Summary: Queen Alysanne feared the rift between her son Baelon with his own son Daemon. With all avenues exhausted perhaps them both being married could give them common ground.Little did she know that her plan could change the fate of their kingdom forever.
Relationships: Baelon Targaryen/Original Female Character, Rhea Royce/Daemon Targaryen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU setting at two of my great what it's after reading the first volume of Fire and Blood. What if Daemon wasn't such an irredeemable bastard and Baelon marrying again.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy.

**96 AC**

Queen Alysanne Targaryen sat in her lavishly furnished chambers and stared at the cloudy sky above. She longed to ride her dragon again and there were no such comforts on the ground that could compare to the sheer ectasy and freedom of a few minutes on her beloved Silverwing. But as much as she will it so, being sixty years old; her joints creaked, her bones bowed, and body ravaged by births and miscarriages prevented her from ever experiencing it again.

But she's made her peace with it long ago and focused herself with the matters of her children and grandchildren, especially with her bullheaded son Baelon and unruly grandson Daemon. Though both deny it, father and son were truly alike; their passions burn hot and their stubbornness was a thing of songs. 

Baelon was her fourth child and oldest yet living, was all an heir supposed to be; but tragedy after tragedy slowly eroded the charming and optimistic lad to a bitter cynical man who's actions drove a wedge between his sons.

Daemon was such a product of this wedge. Even at barely five-and-ten, the brash youth was as self important and pleasure seeking as her ill fated daughter Viserra. 

And seven help her if she would make the same mistake again.

* * *

Though it has only been a moons turn since Prince Daemon Targaryen bonded with his late uncle Aemon's dragon, Caraxes, the princeling and the beast also known as the Blood Wyrm has already flown around the island of Dragonstone near a hundred times. A strapping young man of five-and-ten with the silver hair and deep purple eyes, Daemon much resembled the dragonlords of Valyria as he manuvered through the sky with speed and agility.

Three years ago; his older brother Viserys bonded with Balerion whilst he were six-and-ten. The massive dragon that saw Valyria at its height and lived for more than two centuries had grown old and weak, barely able to circle around the city of Kings Landing a few times then died not a year later. As with the tradition between his Uncle and his father, he claimed a mount whilst a year younger. And with Caraxes itself approaching him on the Dragonmount, it seemed like a sign of the gods.

Daemon urged his dragon higher, ignoring the chill and strong winds. Higher they went until Dragonstone disappeared beneath the clouds and then a familiar sight greeted him; the sun unhindered and it's heat, slowly warming him, a never ending blanket of white clouds spread under his dragon's wings, and a sense of freedom one could only feel gliding through the air.

He closed his eyes as and released Caraxes's reigns and reminisced a memory from long ago: he sat on a saddle much like his own, the Sun and clouds in front of him, he remembers being warm despite the cold as a pair of arms wrapped around him.

“Magnificent isn't it Daemon?” A gentle voice cooed in his ear. “Only dragonriders can see sights such as this.” He remembers only nodding, so in awe of what was before him.

His mother, Princess Alyssa, looked down on her son and smiled. “And you’re my brave little dragon.”

Daemon remembers her caring mismatched eyes; one deep violet and the other startling green. Her brilliant smile while on dragonback, and her long silver-gold hair fluttering in the wind as she rode. But try as he might he can't seem to remember much else, and no other memories of her were as clear. He can't remember how she walked, how she cared for him, or anything motherly, the only thing with any resonance was them soaring in the sky and to his frustration it was never enough.

Crestfallen, he guided his dragon to a slow descend. “Why can't I remember her?” he pondered.

Daemon thought little of his decent as the sky below for it was like many before, the clouds was overcast and the winds fair. That was until he saw a large figure approach Dragonstone. At first he thought it'd be a ship but as he came closer, its speed and the unmistakable dark moss-green scales of Vhagar became clear, and that could only mean his father has come to visit.

He could only curse and groan through the rushing air as he landed on the mouth of a cave near the eastern walls of Dragonstone as this was where Caraxes made its lair. 

A person he recognized as Haegon, a brave or foolish youth near his age that feeds sheep to his voracious dragon after every day. He wore a Black and Red tabard with a Targaryen fire breathing tri-headed dragon in the centre with feathered velvet hat denoting his status as keeper of a royal dragon. Haegon bowed whilst he dismounted as he needed no aid even though Caraxes stood taller than two men in the ground.

Haegon’s family has the largest flock of sheep in Dragonstone and supplied meat to Targaryen dragons long before Aegon and his sisters conquered most of Westeros. Whilst his silvery gold hair and bluish- purple eyes denoted Valyrian heritage, Haegon's strapping body came from carrying meals to his dragon in the far side of the castle. Dragonlords having a dalliance from daughters of such families Haegon's were not unheard of, and some even are proud of having, as they call, a “Dragon Seed” in the family.

Though Daemon won't go as far as calling him friend, he is certainly impressed with the ease and confidence in which the keeper approached his mount. Hardend knights and men-at-arms flinch and tremble at every movement his dragon makes, but for Haegon it's little more than an afterthought. 

When freed from saddle and bridle, Caraxes entered the cave with a quickness one did not expect from a beast so large; its blood red tail slinked towards the dark cave with smoke billowing from the caves mouth. “He seems to be livelier than usual your grace.” Haegon observed.

"Mayhaps the cause was Vhagar's return to the island?" Daemon asked as he undid the laces of his riding vest himself and handing it to Haegon. "Has there been word of my father's arrival?"

"None as of yet, your grace." Said Haegon with riding harness and vest in hand. "He merely stayed long enough for Vhagar to be escorted to it's lair in the Dragonmont."

Daemon breathed a small sigh of relief, as spending even a mere moment of his time with the self-righteous and 'honourable' father 'twould truly be an ordeal equaled only to the depths of the seven hells.

"Though… her grace Queen Alysanne did call for you." 

Daemon grimaced at those words, for they sounded eerily similar to when he was exiled in all but name to Dragonstone after getting caught with a young serving girl in the Red Keep. Prince Baelon the Brave burned bright red upon when he learned of his sons’ deed and would’ve sent him to a septry or the wall if he hadn’t suppressed the laugh at his father’s rage. 

While bonding with Caraxes seemed to be a fair enough trade, he still lusts for the touch of a woman as any young princeling his age would. But yearn as he might, all three whore houses on the island answered to his grandmother, as does every other woman on Dragonstone, be they blushing virgin maids or laundresses with a score of whelps.

And Good Queen Alysanne was a harsh taskmaster on her own right, making him long for his lessons with Septon Manfryd and Grand Maester Elysar’s droning lectures back at the capital, though her back was bowed after many long years of shouldering the burden of rule with his grandfather and birthing many children, she still commands authority and anyone who thought otherwise would be charmed or most often than not humbled with her intelligence and wit.

Or in Daemon’s case sheer criticisms that made him slightly doubt his worth.

“Tell my beloved grandmother I’m unwell from my flight and wish to retire to my chambers.” He tried to walk away, but Haegon wasn't made keeper of a Targaryen dragon to be decived in such a way. Boy’s voice cut through the sounds of blowing winds and crashing waves below. “T’would be unwise your grace!”

“And why would that be?”

“I know not more than you your grace but it concerns Prince Baelon as well....” Haegon hesitated, fearful at what might happen if he didn’t bring Daemon to his father and fearful still at what how he’ll fare against the princes’ temper. “Your presence was sternly insisted.” 

The Prince raised his eyebrows in surprise, what could be so important to call his father from his duties as heir and call on his unruly son? 

But now wearing only a shirt and riding pants, he could feel his sweat dry while his skin got colder from the winds. “Seven hells.” Daemon said frustrated. 

“Apologies your grace!” said Haegon as he ran to catch up to the prince, carrying dragon saddle and its harnesses to the door. 

After washing and getting changed to a fine red silken doublet, Daemon headed to the central keep of the castle, named the Stone Drum for the booming and rumbling sounds that can be heard during storms. He was accompanied by Ser  Clement Crabb , a knight of the Kingsguard. A man of stout frame and his once coopery brown hair receded from his forehead now mostly grey and peppered with white; he’s full head shorter than the princes’ six feet two inches, but under the white enamelled plate lies years of martial experience, Daemons many bruises in the training yards can attest to that. 

“Have you any idea why my father has come here Ser?” Daemon asked the knight.

The knight shook his head and kept pace behind the princeling. "It his right as the Prince of Dragonstone is it not your grace?"

"Yet he came alone and on dragon back no less." Daemon said. 

“All I know your grace is that a a knight has come from the Vale last night and her grace Alysanne sent a raven to your father immediately.”

“Truly? Who is this visitor then to have the Prince of Dragonstone fly from Kings Landing in such short notice?” he asked. "And why haven't I even heard about this knight?"

“I know not your grace.”

“Mayhap they plan on having me accompany my father on a royal progress through the Vale on dragon back.” Daemon joked whilst keeping stride, yet he thought accompanying his father on such a journey would be something from the mind of the seven as a means of punishment.

“That is very likely your grace; Prince Baelon has many friends from his youth in the Vale.”

“Aye, he’s mentioned them a few times.” And by a few times it meant not a day goes by when his father hadn’t mentioned his adventures as mere Prince of the realm, and by his own words ‘As free as a dragon can fly’. “How my mother tolerated him gallivanting through Westeros I’ll never know.”

For a brief moment Ser Clement looked at him then looked away. “Most of those trips were with the late Princess Alyssa, a few times were with you and Prince Viserys whilst still in swaddling clothes.” 

Daemon looked at the knight as though he grew another head. “Was that a jape Ser Clement?” 

“I wouldn’t jape at something like that your grace.” the Kings Guard kept his eyes from him. “I rode with Prince Baelon on the great dragon Vhagar through the Vale of Arryn; your mother was close behind with your then infant brother swaddled in her breast.”

Then Ser Clement shuddered. “I swear by the father, my soul was separated from my body when Vhagar suddenly dove down.” 

The knights’ words made Daemon stop, so taken aback by the very concept of his father taking pleasure in anything. "Is something the matter your grace? Are you unwell?"

Daemon answered with fit of laughter, leaving the knight dumbfounded. “Apologies ser, but the thought of my father being utterly irresponsible and having desires other than settling the realms accounts are quite foreign concepts."

"It would seem so if one should know him before Princess Alyssa passed." 

"What does that mean?"

The knight sighed "It's a question best answered by your father your grace." Ser Clement smiled.

Daemon sensed there was more to those words, but he much rather save his effort in dealing with his father. "I would like nothing better ser, but one should pluck the thorn lest it fester's."

As they arrive to the oaken doors of the lords solar, Ser Clement took his place guarding the entrance and Prince Daemon alone entered. It was decorated much like the rest of the castle, dragons and glyphs made of stone sculpted by some lost valyrian art covered with lacquered wood. There was a tinge smell of smoke from the fireplace that's shaped like a gaping mouth of a dragon.

In in the middle of the room sat three people; his father, grandmother, and some man who he assumed to be the knight from the Vale. 

Daemon could only groan at the anticipation at what cruel and unusual fate would befall upon him now?

"There you are Daemon dear!" His grandmother said as he came in. "How is the sky today?"

As much as he would like to resent his grandmother for her tight grip on him during his stay, the pure delight on her face every time they talked about dragon riding was a thing he cherished, and one of the few things he can talk openly about.

"T'was a fair day for riding grandmother, the clouds were a sight to behold though."

She only nodded as though she experienced it herself and gestured him to take a seat with them.

Daemon strode through the room gazing at his father before sitting himself opposite Baelon. "To what do I owe your presence father?"

"I am the Prince of Dragonstone, there is none here that 'owes' my presence, boy." There was venom to his father's words, but this was of little concern to Daemon for such words held little power over him.

He was about to trade barbs with his father before he was interrupted by the stern regal voice of his grandmother. "That would be quite enough the both of you!"

"Mother I…" his father started, but he was cut off by her glare. Having been both cowed, the son took a seat opposite his father. 

Good Queen Alyssane then turned to what he supposed was the Vale knight. "My apologies Ser."

"There are none needed your grace." The knight said as he raised his hand. "I had the same way of speaking with my late father."

She gave him a kind smile and addressed his father and him. "Baelon, Daemon, this is Ser Gunthor Royce." The Vale knight gave them both court nods and address them by their titles. This Ser Gunthor was a giant in guise of a man wearing a doublet, his short cropped hair and the scent of perfume wafing towards him whilst he was but a yard away. 

"And he has come at come at my leisure to attend on matter regarding the future of House Targaryen."

This made his father raise a discerning eyebrow. "Then why not head for King's Landing and have the king and his small council know."

"It was a personal request by her grace the queen, and the missives given to Runestone bore the seal of his grace the Jaehaerys." Ser Gunthor gave him a piece of parchment with two was seals that indeed have the seals of his parents.

Prince Baelon's eyes dashed through the letter and turned to his mother. "What is the meaning of this?" 

Daemon hadn't cared to listen any further and just let his mind wander. They drifted to the memory of the serving girls in the castle beginning to fill out, it's pure torture that he had to endure their presence whilst they're dressed like septas…

But further thoughts were cut short by a sound akin to dying mule. "Your Grandmother addresses you boy!" 

Daemon blinked in surprise. "Apologies father." Was all he could reply. He could swear Prince Baelon the Brave looked like a overly ripe blood orange as glowered in fury.

"I said, do you consent on your betrothal?" His grandmother sighed. "And should you accept you will be married by next year…"

He turned to his father who was as stone faced as he remembered and then to the knight negotiating on behalf of the air headed lady he'll have to tolerate the presence of. Daemons words became sand in his mouth as he struggled to speak. This had the consent of his Kingly Grandfather, grandmother, and most likely his father, thus it was set in stone and asking him was a mere formality.

"I accept in one condition." He finally replied after what felt like hours.

"And what is it dear?"

"My future bride's family will house me and Caraxes until we are wed."

"Daemon if this is…" his father warned.

"Father, is it not for the best that I know of my bride before we are married?" He said defiantly, it was a gamble but threat of strained finances due to a dragon eating a flock of sheep every three moons was a credible threat. 

"That will not be a problem Prince Daemon." Answered Ser Gunthor. "My Liege have struck an accord with the king to finance a dragon pit in the surrounding cliffs near Runestone."

Daemon could only stare at the knight in bewilderment, a dragon pit was a permanent lair, what he proposed was a mere visit in order to raise the seven hells in Lord Royce's lands. 

"Unfortunately Lord Yorbert has no sons of his body to inherit his titles." His grandmother stated. "Thus it has taken upon his daughter, Lady Rhea, to be the Lady of Runestone."

The smirk if his father's face was infuriating. "T'is a rich match son." His father said. "They are an old and powerful house, and it's for the betterment of the realm if they're binded through marriage."

Daemon hated politics, they had dragons, why not just enforce the realm on dragon back and do away with these ambitious lords thinking they'd be awarded a dragon for their obedience.

Mayhaps he should run away to the free cities and live as a sellsword? But he didn't fancy the indignity of being in the employ of some cheesemonger. Perhaps Volantis would be more accommodating, surely his aunt Saera and her sons would welcome him? Though having Caraxes would complicate things, how is he to trust them to not kill him and take his dragon, kin or not, if them then surely someone with ambition and a knack for poisons would.

In the end only a single choice was left available.

"If my royal grandfather so demands, then who am I to refuse?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to show Baelon and Daemon's perspectives but I passed 3000 words and thought it'd be too long, so I cut it in half.
> 
> This is Baelon's POV.

Prince Baelon led his mother through the pathways of Dragonstone's inner yard, a path that the two walked long ago. It was then that Queen Alysanne towered over him with a gleeful smile on her face and him a boy only as high as her waist dragging her along to watch his older brother spar with the other squires. 

Now nearing fourty, his hair of silver-gold had slowly receded from his forehead and more white strands appear every year, whilst his beloved mother now sixty her posture stooped and unable to walk unaided or without a cane. Baelon still led her albeit in slower pace, not that his grace minded, with the stress and tedium of court, the remote peace of their ancestral seat was a reprieve. 

But not at the moment, for his son challenged the visiting knight Ser Gunthor Royce to a bout in the yards after their meeting. To which the knight duly accepted and half the castle was bustled to watch.

To Baelon's surprise his mother asked to be escorted to the yards personally. Most of the realm knew Queen Alyssane at best tolerated such spectacles and only observed them for ceremony. He and Aemon were such exceptions, much to her worry.

Servants and squires hurried to prepare the grounds for such an abrupt event. As Baelon walked he saw Daemon with what he assumed is a cup of wine whilst a serving boy readied his armour. His son was also wooing some serving girl between each sips.

"You are much too lenient on him mother." He said with restraint. 

The remark earned him a mother's laugh. "Would you have me lock him up in a tower?" Queen Alyssane answered. "Because if I did he'd find some way to escape and fly off to god's knows where."

"You shouldn't have let him claim Caraxes then!"

"Daemon will just brave the Dragonmont to claim a dragon regardless." She replied with a raised eyebrow. "At least with the supervision of the dragon keepers your son didn't become a meal for Aemon's mount."

Baelon could not think of a proper answer, though both he and his son grew distant these past few years, he knew full well Daemon inherited his wife's stubborn willfulness. 

But even his Alyssa had respect for rules and propriety, whilst his son mocked them.

He'd not spared his sons the rod and scoldings, any mischief his boys did was punished accordingly as his father did for himself, Aemon and his other siblings. So Daemon's roguish behavior baffled him, unlike his younger brother; Viserys had neither skill of Lance or Learning, but he's an amicable enough boy and would grow to be a good king under his tutelage.

But try as might to mold Daemon as a capable future Hand for his brother, his youngest preferred to act like an eel instead of a dragon; the near constant absences from his lessons, the insults to visiting lords, the disappearances lasting days at a time and many more. 

His seduction of that poor girl was merely the spark that set alight his frustration and anger towards him. Were it not for his mother proposing this "exile" Baelon feared what he would have done.

"Fear not my boy, you won't suffer the shame of a bastard grandchild." His mother japes but as he came to find out later, other women fell prey to his sons games but thankfully they also had the sense to drink moon tea. 

His mother had grown thinner and more gaunt after he last saw her many moons ago, no doubt the death of his younger sister Maegelle due to greyscale earlier in the year affected his mother more than her correspondence through ravens let on. 

So it was no surprise that she'd would chose this castle as a place of exile for Daemon rather than let him run amok elsewhere, for it was one of the few places in the realm where his quarrelsome son cannot do as he please. 

It also held tender memories of a time when the weight of an entire realm wasn't bearing down on her shoulders; a quieter, simpler, and most of all kinder time when the tragedies that befallen House Targaryen as of late hadn't yet come to pass.

There was also an unexpected blessing, in the form of his impressionable youngest sibling Gael separated from the two-faced opportunists at court eager to influence her. 

When the two finally arrived at the training yard, servants stood at the ready and prepared seats for them under the shade of the sole tree within the castle yard, the very same tree Baelon sprained his ankle in a climbing contest with his older brother. 

Mother and son sat down far enough away from the lingering ears of modest crowd gathered and reminisced on the past and told stories, misremembering details, and regaling on their past exploits mayhaps sung by generations of bards and singers in the future. So preoccupied were they that the beginning of the bout sounded a world away. 

But both knew the purpose of this meeting wasn't for casual conversation between them.

The clash between steel on steel and the crowds cheer's grew louder until it cut between their words. Baelon breathed in and his face went solemn. "That was ill done mother." As he laced his hands together and looked unto the empty practice yard as if searching for an answer. "You could've consulted me in such matters, I am the Master of Laws after all."

"Apologies if I slighted you son, but such secrecy was needed to enact my plan." Said Alyssane looking undaunted by her son's posturing. Another flurry of metallic clangs then came a thud followed by a cheer.

"Then why must it be hidden from me? Am I not entitled to know of my sons impending marriage?!" He slowly turned to his mother with voice steady. The crowd now chanted either Daemon or Gunthor. "Have I erred in some way that I've lost my right? Am I now unworthy?!"

"No, you are entitled as such." Alyssane stared back at her son with carinng motherly eyes. "But I needed a reason for you to come and stay for me to talk."

Baelon narrowed his eyes and scoffed briefly gazing at the match which now devolved into grapples. "Send me a raven then mother."

"And it would just be that, a correspondence of ravens!" His mother pleaded. Grunts from both participants now reached them. "You have to truly listen so as to not have my words disregarded had they been written on parchment."

"I have duties to the realm now mother." With a wistful smile Baelon shook his head. The two fighters circled each other in silence with the crowd eager for more. "More so now that Father and Septon Barth are ailing, but neither would admit as such."

"What I have to say  _ does _ concern the realm!" The frustration on his mother's voice was now becoming more apparent earning some turned heads. "And it dwarfs the importance of leading a bunch of drunken watchmen in that insufurable city!"

Baelon was stunned; not at the comment about him leading drunken men in guise of the city watch, as Queen she knew better. No, it had been close to half a decade since he heard his mother raise her voice, and he felt like a chastised child again listening to it. 

"Very well, I am listening now." He said as he slumped in his chair, defeated, and sipped his wine. The two combatants released their holds on one another for a brief respite and had swords retrieved by squires. 

Alysanne composed herself and spoke. "Every year I grow ever older and the shadow of The Stranger looms ever closer for me." Baelon attempted to interject but Alyssane simply raised her hand. "But I do not fear leaving this world, what I do fear however is leaving our house divided without doing all I can to reunite it."

"Come now mother, House Targaryen is in no such state." Baelon laughed. "The realm is at peace and there are more dragonriders since the doom."

"Truly? Then when has last time you have spoken to Rhaenys?" There was clear condescension in his mother's voice. "Have you even tried to contact Saera?"

Baelon was silenced and unable to form a coherent answer to those questions.

"Thus you will listen and not ignore our problems within our family like my bullheaded of a husband prefers." Tears were now welling in her eyes as she struggled to remain composed. "I have lost friends, family and children because of his decisions."

Though he could not refute his father's callusness towards his less than accomplished siblings. And the issue of Saera was to him, an open wound, for he stood only in quiet opposition as his father proclaimed her dead in his eyes. 

Baelon thought, naively, that his father and Saera's mutual anger would fade in time and the two would eventually reconcile. But while time did rid much of King Jaehaerys' anger it only gave way to a cold loathing that will not thaw no matter his or mother's pleadings. 

He assumes Saera is of the same mind, since there was no attempt by her mend their relations.

"If you are to become a King then our family must be in order, lest we tear each other and the realm apart." His mother stated as she wiped fresh tears in her eyes.

Baelon sat and mulled over those words, he had hoped in overturning some of his father's sterner decrees after he ascended to the throne, mayhaps even welcoming his estranged sister back in the family after settling Rhaenys' claim. But such things would not come anytime soon, not while his father is on the throne.

"What would you have me do?" He said finally. Daemon now more mindful of Ser Gunthor's reach kept his distance and probed the knights defense. 

"Only two things at first." Alyssane stated. "Make peace with Rhaenys and her husband."

Though Baelon expected as much, he still winced at the prospect. After Aemon died at the hands of those damnable Myrish exiles, a question of succession arose. Should he, the younger brother, be heir or Rhaenys, his late brothers daughter and only child. 

For King Jaehaerys however, it was clear that Baelon was to inherit Aemon's title as Lord of Dragonstone and Heir apparent to the Iron Throne, much to the displeasure of Lord Corlys Velaryon and Lord Boremund Baratheon. As they were husband to his niece and brother to Jocelyn, Rhaenys' mother, respectively.

Though both houses were cordial enough now, they raised seven hells following the pronouncement. Some at court feared the Velaryon fleet might seal off Blackwater Bay and a Baratheon army would march to King's Landing, all in an effort to force Rhaenys' claim.

Thankfully for the Seven Kingdoms; King Jaehaerys even aged four-and-sixty, still held much influence over many lords of the realm and they accepted his choice of heir.

The rest of the other great lords had reservations of having an untested woman aged only eight-and-ten as heir over him, an experienced commander who also served in the small council for many years. 

Facing united opposition and a lack of support, Lords Corlys and Boremund made no such attempt but was quite vocal in their displeasure. Thus to this day not even a raven or messenger has come from Driftmak or Storms End.

"And the other?" The first request would be difficult were he the king, but as a prince he fears Lords Coryls and Boremund will close ranks on him and deny even an audience. 

"Am I to fly to Volantis and reclaim Saera?" He said half a jape, though such a feat would be leagues more difficult if not outright impossible than making peace with his niece. And Baelon fears his sister will not look kindly on him for his silence when she needed it most. 

But Vhaegar is quite a negotiating tool and certainly the Triarchs of Volantis would be open for some personal dealings.

"Not as of yet, my Jaehaerys would keel over in anger if you were to do so." She said after a pause. "You need only marry again."

His son grew ever bolder in his attacks and the Vale knight stepped back further and further.

At those words Baelon could only sigh, he's had this conversation with both of his parents many a time before, even his last conversation with Aemon was about him being a widower. 

However even his brother could never understand what he felt, the soul wrenching grief when Alyssa died a year after having little Aegon then the babe himself followed not even a year later. 

A sudden burst of speed from the prince caught Ser Gunthor and seemingly stumble, only for him to party and knock Daemon's sword aside this leaving an opening. 

The hope he clung to every day that his beloved wife and youngest child would yet live, the prayers he said to the Seven-who-are-one and even to the weirwoods in the isle of faces, were all in the end for nought. 

In split second his son followed the swords momentum rolled aside and avoided being disarmed yet again.

Alyssa was his only love and when she died he felt as if half of his very being died with her. The ordeal left him hollow and alone, he needn't feel it again.

Ser Gunthor flurried his sword to the crowd as they cheered his name.

"Mother-"

"I shall hear none of your excuses." She answered as if he were a mere child denied of some toy.

Daemon then raised his sword and declared him still unbested. Much to the delight of the spectators.

"I have two sons, one married with a child on the way and the other is to be wed this coming year." Baelon explained. "I am not lacking of heirs mother."

"Then what of companionship?" She asked. 

Though Baelon was guilty of indulging with bed warmers on occasion, but he's never partaken with whores or seduced women married or otherwise. Nor had a paramour graced his presence as he kept himself separate from his baser urges.

The two then again circled each other waiting for an opportunity to strike the other.

"Such frivolities serves as merely a distraction."

"Distraction? Was I such for your father?" She asked. "Are my accomplishments for nought by simply being wed to the King."

"I meant nothing of the sort, you of all people should know this." There was a tense silence between them, their tempers both boiling. Mother and son sat silent for what felt like ages with the bout and the crowd breaking the quiet.

"You will be a great king, even greater than your father." Alyssane said finally. "But even my Jaehaerys needed me for comfort and support."

"There needs to be a gentler side to the crown, forgiving slights and pardoning fretful wrongs whilst the other held it's strength and power, punishing wrongs done in malice."

The crowd now remained silent as the back and forth of swing, parries, and blocks from the Prince and the knight became an entrancing dance of steel.

"I fear you would lack such a side and will suffer for it." Queen Alyssane looked at him with tired eyes.

This dance then turned back to battle as Daemon missed a beat in the rythm and Ser Gunthor pressed for the attack.

"My reign will never be one of tyranny and fear, may the seven strike me down should I ever fall to that path." He replied outraged.

But while the knights swing reached far, his son proved far more nimble and dodged whilst he wore an identical heavy plate as his opponent.

Alyssane laughed at his overzealous response. "Oh my poor boy, of course you'll never be Maegor come again." 

Ser Gunthor now grew bolder in his swings and as man familiar to swordsmanship, Baelon knew the signs. Daemon fed into this as he weaved through the strikes but never commits himself. 

"But goodwill is garnered and cultivated." She said caressing his head like a boy again. "And while your prowess and exploits would do much to impress the lords and men of the realm, the ladies and women would know nothing else from you."

It was a common saying amongst the small folk; "the men loved the king and tolerated the queen, the women loved the Queen and tolerated the king." Never had he expected to know it's true meaning.

"I shall think upon it mother." Baelon said as he brushed aside his mother's hands. "May I ask who is this maid you've chosen?"

"Sheira Tully."

Baelon's eyes grew wide at the mention of the name, a rage he'd not known for years emerged and all the distractions became mumbles. "Lord Grover's daughter!?"

"Aye, the very same." His mother said. "And little Aemma's attendant."

"Warrior save me!" He rose from his seat and covered his face with his hands. "Is this some sort of jape?"

"It is no such thing."

"Then have you somehow forgotten how he postured himself at court and offered that child to me whilst Alyssa's body hadn't yet cooled?!" Baelon all but screamed.

"You need not remind me of how that man acted." Dispite her son's anger Alyssane still sat defiant. "My blood boils at the very memory."

"So why have you chosen his daughter out of all the highborn ladies of the realm?"

"Surely you yourself must know?" "She has been in the service of your good daughter Aemma since she wed Viserys and she is quite unlike her father." 

"How could you possibly know at barely three years at court? For all we know she's nothing but a two-faced mummer, trying to raise her standing with us."

"I've been surrounded by the mummery of court since I was but a newly flowered maid." His mother chuckled. "And I hope you would trust my judgement of her to not be as such."

"I shall hear no more this mother." Baelon waved his mother away raised from his seat. "Of marriage or the Tully girl."

"Baelon!" 

"I shall fly for King's Landing at first light tomorrow."

"She is a bright girl and wise beyond her years!" She hurried after him. "Your good daughter looks to her as a mother."

He merely walked past Alysanne and ignored her pleadings. 

"Your brother has confirmed her character!" 

He was certain that Aemon had no knowledge of Lord Grover or his daughter and left no documents as such, that left remaining brother at the Citadel. 

"What weight does Vaegon's words have regarding the Tully girl?" 

"Alone? Hardly any." The Good Queen had a look if triumph about her. "But it his friend from his time as a novice does."

Baelon's eyes grew wide at this revelation. "Vaegon made a friend?"


End file.
